No word in the English language describes those who have lost a child. We are, simply, "The Bereaved". Pain and longing overwhelm us, defying description, when our child dies. We use words like "numb","in shock" and "anguished," but these are just words, woefully inadequate to measure our pain. With time the pain does diminish, but never ever disappears. Instead, the pain attacks, lying in wait for an unsuspecting moment, popping up in unexpected corners. Day and night, we never escape it; it is always there, lurking, waiting to capture us in unexpected moments. A thoughtless comment, a similarly named child,a child who laughs just so, resurrects our pain and our longing, inescapable and unintentionally cruel.

In an attempt to comfort us, well-intentioned people say to those of us who have lost a child: "You can have others." So? I want THAT one !! Children are not toys, replaceable like the batteries that run them. "He died quickly, thats a blessing." Huh?? "Be glad you have other kids who are healthy," they tell me.Of course I'm glad !! I appreciate my living children, and their gifts, every moment of the day. Does that make my other child's death any less painful? "You'll be stronger in the end." In the end of what ? How strong do we have to be ?

People say, "Hey, how are you?" Do they really want to know? Do they want to hear of our pain and longing for what we will never have again ? My love for my living children is deep, all-encompassing, and forever. Why is it so strange, then, that my love for my child who has died has an equal claim on my heart?

The deep and darkening silence from friends and family reveals that those who love us do not understand the ongoing nature of our loss. They cannot face our pain and anguish, nor can they face us. If they faced it, they would realize that it could well happen to them, which is a pain too deep for them to bear. There, but for the grace of God, goes the rest of the world.

My son could have been a stillbirth. He could have died in a housefire or a car accident. He died of Meningicoccal Meningitis. In the whole scheme of things, the manner of his death is less important than that he lived, and died. Yet friends and family tell me that it is time to "get on" with my life.

I have tried to "get on." Waking up in the morning, isn't that "getting on"? I eat, and sleep and work; I teach and play with my surviving children. I laugh and cry with them and kiss their owies..I AM "getting on" with life. Does "getting on" mean I cannot miss my firstborn son? He of the curly red hair, dimple, and smile that could brighten a cloudy day, whose laughter rang bells in my heart?

The death of our children does not mean we no longer love them or miss them. We will always grieve for what we no longer have and will never have again. The Bereaved grieve also for what might have been. Our children will not ride a bike, eat a sno-cone, get kissed. They will never know the joy of marriage and bearing children. My surviving children will reach these milestones and are a constant reminder that my child who died will not. How then, do I "get on"?

The death of a child leaves a hole in our lives forever. We step over and around the hole.On some days we jump over the hole or can pass by it with hardly a glance; on other days we fall into it. The truth is, that hole cannot be filled -- it is unique, one-of-a-kind. Tell me, how can we "get on" if we keep falling into the hole?

My grief is a measure of my love for my child; you cannot tell me to stop loving him, nor can you tell me to stop grieving him, to "get over it." I will not say his name to you if it bothers you, but neither do you ignore that I have that child and loved him. Acknowledge that he lived and filled a purpose in this world; allow me to grieve as I need and accept my grief without judging the length or breadth of it.

Acknowledge my child. Acknowledge my grief. Acknowledge my right to decide how long and how how hard I will love my living children, and how long, and how hard I will love and grieve for the son who died. And never ever forget that my son also LIVED !!!!

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